Some of you may have gotten wind of the Mother’s Day issue of Time Magazine featuring a young, hip supermodel nursing her—what? Six-year-old son? Whatever. The article is entitled Are You Mom Enough? and it’s evidently about the practitioners and preachers of Attachment Parenting. I haven’t read the article (I’m not a subscriber), so I’m not going to comment on it, which is very un-English-majory of me. Instead, I’d like to comment on the zillions of rebuttals to the article I read online while trying to hack my way in to a copy of the actual article:
What happened to subject/verb agreement?
On Mother's Day
I know, I know—language is alive. To take an overly-prescriptive stance on its development is to cage it—to cage it and then to slowly stop feeding it. I try to take a flexible, only mildly-elitist position on grammar. I won’t use impact as a verb, but I also won’t circle incidents of such misuse in library books.* I will call out the use of ask as a noun, however—in any setting, even if it’s Elvis Presley speakin’ it from the grave. Death is no excuse for sloppy grammar.
But isn’t subject/verb agreement sacred? I honestly can’t see how allowing this rule to lapse won’t lead to global, political collapse. It’s a moral imperative.
Which brings me to Mother’s Day. I’m a big fan. I didn’t get everything I wanted for Mother’s Day this year—I didn’t sleep in and I didn’t eat breakfast in bed, but I did get a gift whose worth is beyond measure. Let me ‘splain:
Here's a hint.
Husband’s sister (that would be Auntie T) invited us to spend the afternoon at her house. She has a condo on Lake Washington with a lush lawn, and it was a gorgeous day. Her husband (that would be Uncle A) picked up all sorts of toddler-goodies from Costco: An inflatable wading pool, water wings, wind-up toy boats, snacks… good stuff. We were ill-prepared for the visit, as it was a last-minute idea, so we didn’t have a swim diaper for Puppy. No big deal—he typically goes commando in wading pools.
Aaaaaaaand that would be the first time he’s ever pooped while naked.
This is BEFORE. I don't think I got any AFTERs, though...
I know; we’re lucky. Most parents have dealt with poop in the bathtub by two-and-a-half years, but I had been spared that challenge. And, it being Mother’s Day, I felt at liberty to sit this one out. I didn’t even see the poop (though I’m the one who announced, “Oh no; is he pooping?”). Husband and Uncle A did all the dirty work, including dumping the tainted water into the lake (after picking out the poop, okay? Sheesh), and washing out and refilling the pool. I sat on the sideline with Auntie T and observed that I felt no guilt for my inaction.
Also a BEFORE. That's Uncle A, by the way.
Best. Mother’s Day gift. Ever.**
I’m so scared for what Puppy’s going to pull out on Father’s Day…
Oh wait-- Here's an AFTER.
See his cute little bum? I'll never grow tired of posting such shots.
*As a librarian, I can tell you it is not vandalism to mark grammar errors in library books, so long as it’s done with pencil, and the user hasn’t attempted to correct intentionally-rendered vagaries of language, such as in dialogue. It’s not vandalism; it’s patriotism.
**I also got a starter-set of Fiestaware plates! Shamrock, Lemongrass, Marigold, Sunflower, Peacock, and Paprika, with Tangerine and Turquoise on back-order. I love them. The best part of receiving them, though, was watching Puppy watch me open the boxes. He was beside himself with joy at seeing presents opened—even though they weren’t for him. “Presents! Presents!” he shouted/spit while clapping and kicking. A very happy boy, that one. I sure do dig him.
On the drive home. Sign of a very good day.
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